When The Night Never Ends
by LaughDon'tFall
Summary: Life gets increasingly harder when someone is trying to kill you. Quinn, Rachel, Santana and Brittany become trapped at the Pierces residents with a killer. Eventual Faberry. Brittana. Rated M.


**Summary:** _Life gets increasingly harder when someone is trying to kill you. Quinn, Rachel, Santana and Brittany become trapped at the Pierces residents with a killer. Eventual Faberry. Brittana. Rated M._

**_Wow, I have not stopped writing for hours! -sleepy eyes- I had this idea after watching a random slasher movie and then dreaming about Glee. Who doesn't love a B grade slasher movie? Huh? Yeah, no one. And more importantly who doesn't love Faberry? -Fangirls out with a squeal- I've also added Brittana, because, well - they are friggin' totes awesome! :-) This is M rated - so keep that in mind readers. Okay, now go -hasten - read...or not O_O up to you._**

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><p>X<p>

The loud sound of music hummed through Quinn's body rhythmically, soothing her into a care-free state.

Her head moved slowly, bopping in time with the base beat. A red plastic cup was held limply in her hand, filled halfway with light amber liquid. She was sitting in Puck's kitchen, away from the main party – yet still able to see the sweating mess of teenagers dancing widely in the living room. Puck's mom was out of town for the weekend, so in true Noah-like fashion he threw a loud, overcrowded party.

Quinn had only really agreed to come because he had begged her, like actually begged her, hands cupped together – on his knees, begged her.

Apparently he wanted her to let her hair down, to relax a bit.

So far, Quinn had to confess it was working. The music was surprisingly good, not to fast but hardly slow enough that people awkwardly swayed to it. No one was misbehaving, although admittedly it was only – Quinn looks to her watch – 10:42pm. She'd been here an hour and a half.

Shifting on the leather stool to get comfortable, Quinn gently places her cup on the kitchen island. Puck's standing at the sink, pouring orange juice into a large glass. His actions are a little sloppy. However he manages it fairly quickly. He turns around and Quinn smiles when he grabs for the bottle of Vodka, a quick tilt and the alcohol is mixing with the juice. He winks at her on his way out and Quinn lazily grabs for her own drink, taking a small gulp.

The kitchen is quiet for a long minute until the scuffing of shoes and a drawn out chuckle breaks it, within seconds Santana comes stumbling in with an incredibly drunk looking Brittany by her side.

The blonde has her arm around the Latina's neck loosely. Santana looks to be the only thing holding her up.

"She alright, S?" Quinn asks slowly, her drink being placed back on the counter as she looks with concern at a smiling Brittany.

Santana nods, "She's had too much to drink, is all." Brittany's shaking her head lightly and making shushing sounds, Quinn stands up holding her hand out as Santana attempts to basically drag the Cheerio forward.

Quinn grabs lightly to the taller blondes forearm, attempting to help stabilize her somewhat. It offers very little to the unbalanced girl. However Santana's grip on Brittany's waist tells Quinn the brunette is more than able to hold her up by herself.

"She going to be alright?" She asks and Santana just watches a giggling Brittany for a moment, Quinn adjusts her grip and signals for the kitchen chair – the Latina nods.

Shuffling over to the wooden seat Quinn directs Brittany to sit down, her movements are clumsy and Santana has to basically manhandle her onto the chair, however after a moment of awkwardly supporting the girl they eventually sit her down.

"You alright, B?" Santana asks softly and Quinn steps back when she squats in front of Brittany, her hands gently rubbing the girl's jean clad thighs. "Britt?"

The blonde looks momentarily to Santana before shaking her head, "Sick." She says breathlessly and Quinn jerks forward as she walks over to the sink, grabbing a plastic cup roughly she fills it with water.

"Here," She says gently, holding the cup out to Santana, "It might help."

Santana takes the water with a quick nod, passing it to Brittany. "Just take a few sips, B."

Brittany does as she's told, her hands shaking as Santana helps her to hold the cup.

Quinn frowns, "How much did she drink exactly?" She asks quietly, barely able to be heard over the music.

Brittany wasn't the type of person to get completely smashed, sure, Quinn remembers a few times the girl had gotten drunk – but to be unable to control her actions – it wasn't like Brittany. The girl only ever drank as much as Santana, so they were always at the same level of intoxication. From the looks of it, Santana wasn't drunk enough to stumble blindly. Mainly just enough for her cheeks to be flushed and to have a slight wobble when she walked.

Santana stands slowly as she releases a deep breath, running her hands through her hair. "No more than me," she states with concern, she turns back to Brittany watching as the girl sips shakily from the cup.

Quinn furrows her eyebrows, "Do you think someone slipped her something?"

Santana shakes her head, "Don't, Q. She's fine, she just needs to rest." Her voice sounds rough, Quinn knows it's more worry than actual anger.

Taking a step closer she looks to Brittany, studying the Cheerio for a few seconds. Santana's doing the same.

"Puck gave me a lift here, I don't have my car." States Quinn and Santana nods.

"B and I walked here."

Quinn looks down, thinking of ways they could get Brittany back to her house. It was pointless calling her parents, they were out of town for a week – Santana's were working, as usual – and Quinn's mom was undoubtedly passed out on the couch. She always drank too much on the weekends.

With a sigh Quinn looks around, almost everyone is drunk. Puck is straddling a beer keg, singing into his fist – Quinn counts him out. Mike and Tina are asleep on the couch, Quinn notes they have been for some time, so they're also out as well.

She can't remember if Sam came or not, however she does spot Finn.

He's dancing with a random girl, practically draping his loafing self over her. He was way too wasted to help in anyway. She's about to ask Santana for ideas when she suddenly remembers Finn had come with Rachel to the party,_ Rachel_, she would most likely be sober and she had arrived in her car.

"Rachel?" She utters to Santana and the girl furrows her eyebrows, Quinn elaborates. "She can drive us to Brittany's house, she's our best bet."

For a second it looks like Santana is about to refuse, however Brittany's low whine breaks any doubt and she nods. "Find her quickly, I'll stay with B."

Quinn signals her understanding, walking swiftly from the kitchen.

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><p>X<p>

It was difficult to escape the sweaty bodies of everyone in the living room, the heaving of panting breaths and cheers assaulted Quinn's ears loudly. Ugh.

More than once she was touched inappropriately, shrugging off the touchy boys turned into actually pushing them.

They were too drunk to realise that they had basically been assaulted so Quinn's temper went unnoticed.

She emerges from the drunken crowd minutes later. Her eyes drift across more people in the hopes of spotting Rachel. It's not long before she sees the unmistakable argyle sweater, why Rachel would wear a sweater to a party Quinn isn't sure.

She takes a few steps towards the standing girl, easily embodying an air of confidence. "Berry."

Rachel looks up from the cup she's holding quickly, responding automatically to the name.

Quinn stops in front of her, she loosely points to the drink. "How much have you had?" Rachel's frown makes Quinn inpatient, she steps closer. "How much?"

"Two cups, I can assure you I am perfectly sober though. I've had plenty of water." Rachel pauses and Quinn only now notices the girl is also holding a bottle of water. "Is everything okay, Quinn?"

Quinn swallows before she grabs Rachel's upper arm tightly, the brunette gives a jump at the rather rough action and Quinn lightens her grip instinctively.

"I need you to do me a favour, no questions asked." States Quinn and firmly she pulls Rachel into a walk, "Can you do that for me, Berry?"

"I…Ugh. What kind of favour?" She sounds nervous and Quinn can't really blame her, it's not like they've ever been friendly –well _she's_ never been friendly – Rachel's tried more than once to offer some kind of friendship, Quinn just never accepted.

She walks faster because the dancing idiots are annoying to watch and turns to glance at Rachel, "No questions asked." She reminds and tugs harder when the shorter girl tries to stop.

"Quinn, please." Rachel says quietly however Quinn's already pulling her into the kitchen, she stops abruptly and Rachel hits her back softly. Mumbling out a quick 'sorry' – she immediately goes silent when she sees Brittany slumped on the chair, Santana has a grip on her shoulders and when she catches Quinn's eyes she nods.

"She in or what?"

Quinn nods back, "Yeah, how is she?" Her eyes stare at the tired looking blonde, Rachel's follow hesitantly.

"Can't understand a word she's saying, Q." Santana looks to Rachel, "You good with the wheels?"

"Excuse me?" Rachel actually looks like she's going to faint, Quinn only now realises she's still holding her arm, she lets her go rapidly. Rachel glances to her – her water bottle and drink unmoving in her hands.

Quinn points to Brittany, "We need to get her home, and you're driving us." She demands, Rachel looks back to Santana.

"Is she alright? She looks ill, has she been drinking enough water?"

The Latina looks annoyed before pointing to the cup held by Brittany, "Just get your keys, Dwarf."

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><p>X<p>

"I don't wanna-feel weird, Mmmh, 'kay?" Slurs Brittany, Santana's supporting most of her weight again as all four girls' walk to Rachel's car. Quinn's on Brittany's other side, her shoes trudging lightly on the grass. Rachel's a few feet ahead, keys jingling in her hand. "Don't wanna move, San. Too tired, Mmmh – feel sick."

"Just a little further, B. I promise, and then you can rest okay?" Santana explains and Quinn rubs the blondes back softly. She focuses on Rachel as the girl unlocks her car, thankful that she also opens the back door.

"We're just going to get you in the car," Quinn says gently, Brittany's face scrunches tightly.

"No-no-car, feel sick…"

"Yeah, B, car." Santana states firmly, her hands grip the blonde's waist tight. "Then we're going home." She sooths and Quinn smiles at the gentleness – only Brittany got that tone – it was like reserved for her.

Quinn steps back as she lets Brittany go, allowing Santana the room to awkwardly get her into the car. She falls heavily onto the seat, Santana's cautious to climb in after her. Her hands grab at Brittany's wrists, roughly and yet carefully sitting her up. A quick glance lets Quinn know she can shut the door, quietly she does. Walking around to the passenger side she gets in.

Rachel's already buckled up, Quinn glances to her quickly – then looks away.

"Do you know the address?" She asks and from her peripheral vision she sees Rachel nod, "Alright." She breathes and Rachel starts the car.

It's quiet for the initial few minutes – Rachel has the radio on, down low, she's silent. Quinn looks to her every so often, Santana talks in whispers to Brittany, who occasionally slurs back.

Quinn picks idly at her nails. She wants to thank Rachel for driving them – wants to ask Santana how Brittany is – and wants to understand why the blonde is so drunk.

She goes to say something to Rachel in way of thanks, instead she ends up saying. "Take a left."

Rachel nods, "I know, Quinn."

"Then a right after that." She adds quietly, Rachel nods for a second time.

"Yes, I know."

Quinn breathes out again, she frowns when Brittany sobs from the backseat – Santana's whispers get softer.

"It's sixty through here." States Quinn, Brittany's whimper breaks what little silence there is.

Rachel nods slowly, "I know."

"Left, remember."

"Yes, I remember."

* * *

><p>X<p>

"Okay, grab her legs." Santana orders, holding Brittany under the arms as she drags the girl from the parked car, "Quickly, Q."

Quinn moves hurriedly, she grabs Brittany's ankles strongly – Rachel's hesitantly by her side a second later – she frowns.

Brittany is dead weight, she's not exactly unconscious. Her eyes are open and staring intently at Santana, and she occasionally says something. But to get her to stand let alone walk would be impossible.

Santana starts walking backwards, Quinn moves as well.

"I am really worried, I mean, she looks like she's getting worse – should I call my Dad's?"

Santana huffs, "She's fine, Dwarf. We just need to get her inside." She pauses briefly, "The keys are in her pocket."

Rachel swallows and Quinn tightens her grip as Brittany shifts, "Get them, Berry." She says and again readjusts her hold.

"W-what pocket are they in, may I ask?" Rachel inquires and Quinn notices how strange this must be for the Diva, helping the people who made her life unbearable.

She makes a mental note to properly thank her.

Not just tell her what direction to go in.

"Jacket," Santana says, quickly ascending the few front door steps. "Right pocket."

Rachel nods and cautiously reaches into Brittany's pocket, Santana watches her closely. Quinn does too, however it's because Rachel's hand is shaking slightly. Quinn must admit her adrenaline is racing as well. The effects of her few drinks have long worn off. Leaving her feeling awake, cold and slightly nauseous.

"Got them," Rachel breathes. She holds the keys up for proof.

Santana tilts her head towards the door and Rachel fumbles as she shoves the key into the lock, it sticks and she turns it harder, hearing a small click she pushes on the door – it opens easily.

Santana moves straight away, Quinn is quick to keep the swift pace.

"We should put her on the couch, do you think?" Asks Rachel, she shuts the door behind them. "Or maybe in her bed?"

"Couch first," Santana says a bit breathlessly, Quinn nods her approval at the idea. "Turn the lights on."

Rachel seems to hesitate for a moment before she looks around quickly, Quinn focuses on placing Brittany on the couch, the girl sighs quietly as she is placed down however doesn't stir. Santana's hand is pushing back her hair a moment later, soothing the girl into a deeper slumber. Quinn smiles at the small action.

"Do you want me to get her some water?" She asks quietly and Santana nods, Quinn leaves the room a second later. Hearing a low 'thanks, Q' as she does.

The house is still in darkness, Quinn keeps her hand upon the wall as a guide – she's been to Brittany's house plenty of times – so she's familiar with the lay out. The fact it's so dim however, makes the place look slightly altered. Different to how Quinn remembers.

Despite her walking slowly and cautiously – because Brittany has a cat – and she'd hate to step on it, Quinn reaches the kitchen rather quickly.

She's about to flick the light on when she notices a trembling Rachel, she has her back to her – facing the sink.

Quinn swallows lightly before she steps further into the dark kitchen, she watches the girl for what seems like a _very_ long time, hazel eyes trace the girls hair – it's out, a bit tussled from the car ride, yet Quinn still thinks it looks nice. It hadn't really dawned on her how foreign this situation must be for Rachel until now, Brittany was a mess, Santana had a permanent frown of worry and Quinn herself had dragged the singer into this position without really asking her, she should have asked her.

She's not exactly use to asking Rachel Berry for favours though.

But, she still should have asked properly.

She shakes her head lightly before she moves forward, silently.

"Is everything alright?" Rachel visibly jumps at Quinn's voice, the blonde stands next to her swiftly, "Sorry, I – uhm, didn't mean to scare you."

Her voice is quiet and briefly she curses the slight stutter, Rachel however smiles faintly and Quinn tries vainly to capture the brunette's eyes however she continues to stare at the sink.

"I am alright, Quinn." She says with a breath out, "I am however concerned about Brittany, she seems to have ingested a large amount of alcohol."

This time Rachel does look up, Quinn nods and keeps her eyes steady with the other girls. She can't determine if she's annoyed, tired, scared or just really nervous.

"I think someone slipped her something," Quinn states, because Santana really hadn't listened to her when she'd brought it up before. Rachel's face turns serious. Her hands grip the edge of the sink tightly as she continues to stare at Quinn.

"Why…who, who would do something like that Quinn?" She looks down to the floor, "To Brittany of all people?"

There's a bubble of anger that bursts in Quinn's stomach at Rachel's words, mainly because – who the fuck – _actually_ would do that to Brittany? The girl is the kindest person Quinn knows, she is gentle and compassionate. Plus she gets along well with practically everyone, who'd want to hurt her?

Quinn breathes out, "I don't have proof –" She starts however Rachel cuts her off.

"I think Brittany is proof enough, I should call my Dad's. They'd know what to do, Quinn. I should call my Dad's shouldn't I?" She looks like she wants to cry and Quinn has the sudden urge to do the same, instead she just grabs at Rachel's wrists and turns her to face her.

The girl is taken off guard.

"For all we know she has been drinking more than she should tonight, I don't really want to jump to conclusions until we at least figure out what she's had to drink. Santana's with her, okay?" She stops and squeezes Rachel's wrists tighter, the girl nods silently. "She'll take care of her. We just need to get her some water – maybe food." She adds and it lacks certainty, she keeps her hold on Rachel, the girls brown eyes stare hesitantly into her own – Quinn looks away.

"I'm worried, Quinn." Rachel explains and Quinn just nods, her hands hurt from how tight she's gripping the brunettes wrists. But she doesn't let go.

"Look," She says lowly, "I need you to hold it together, Berry. Because Santana isn't really thinking clearly, and I can't be the only one, Alright?"

Rachel nods although it's only a slight tilt, she looks down at her wrists and Quinn does the same. Her knuckles are white and for a second it looks like she is shaking, in reality they both are.

Rachel's arms are warm compared to Quinn's hands and for a silent minute neither girl moves, it's only when Rachel's frown turns into a grimace does it register with Quinn that she's hurting the shorter girl. She loosens her grip, however doesn't fully let go.

"Am I hurting you?" She questions quietly and Rachel's breath actually catches when Quinn tugs her forward, close enough for them to feel each other's warmth. "Berry," She says roughly and Rachel looks to her.

Her eyes shine with tears – they appear glossy – sad almost.

Quinn steadies her breathing and lets her go hastily, Rachel steps back the moment she does.

"Sorry," Quinn utters softly, her emotions kind of running high.

They certainly weren't on a normal level of functioning if she had resorted to manhandling Rachel, the girl was just worried, and Quinn had practically bruised her wrists. She looks quickly to the sink and remembers why she was in here –_water_ – Rachel's standing a few feet away, Quinn glances to her. She thinks about thanking her for her help however when she goes to, she pauses mid-way. The moment is all kinds of wrong and Brittany needs water.

"Can you manage the lights?" She asks firmly instead.

Rachel nods, "Of course,"

Quinn grabs a glass from one of the overhanging cupboards as she turns the tap on, the water spurts loudly and she jumps a little when the splash back hits her skin. It's cold considering its summer, with a quick glance to her watch – 11:57pm – Quinn shuts the water off.

A second later the lights are on.

* * *

><p>Neither Quinn nor Rachel sees the shadow of a tall figure outside.<p>

But he sees them – and with a smirk of malice he walks towards the neatly kept house, across the trimmed grass and up to the front door.

At 11:57pm Quinn Fabray checks her watch – Rachel Berry turns on the lights and they leave the kitchen.

At 12:15am there's a knock at the front door…

_Life gets increasingly harder when someone is trying to kill you, it's like a hunter and a deer, he always shoots to kill. The deer doesn't stand a chance if it gets singled out. For the few moments the deer is alert, the hunter is calm._ _It takes just one shot…_

At 12:15am there's a knock at the front door, just _one_ knock.

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><p><em><strong>I'm a monster for making Brittany so out-of-it, Gah! -sad puppy dog eyes- forgive me? Also I want to continue this fic, anyone else want that too? -one person raises their hand- um, okay... ;)<strong>_

_**Yes/no?**_

_**Or is it a Mercedes hell yes! - Hell no?**_


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